"Because someone has to," she said. "And I'm good at it. Now either help me or get out of my way. I have approximately ninety minutes before this degradation becomes critical."
I helped. Followed her instructions precisely, held tools when directed, monitored safety readings while she worked with the kind of focused intensity that made everything else disappear. Watching her was like observing combat, every movement deliberate, every decision carrying weight, every success building toward the larger objective.
She was magnificent.
And completely unaware of it.
An hour into the repair, she miscalculated a power reroute. The distribution node sparked, not dangerous yet, but escalating. I saw her brain work through the problem in real-time, watched her fingers move through correction sequences faster than conscious thought should allow.
"There," she breathed. The sparking stopped. "That was closer than I'd like."
"You handled it perfectly."
"I miscalculated the resistance variance. Rookie mistake." She wiped sweat from her forehead, leaving a grease smear across her temple. "If I'd been alone, that could have gone critical."
"But you weren't alone."
She met my eyes. Held my gaze for three seconds that felt longer. "No. I wasn't."
Something shifted between us. Not solved, nothing about Elena's self-destructive patterns or my compulsive protectiveness was solved. But acknowledged. Seen.
"Repair's complete," she said finally. "Grid stability restored. No sector shutdown required, no operational disruption, no?—"
The console behind her exploded.
I moved on instinct, grabbed Elena, pulled her against my chest, turned my back to the sparks and debris flying from the overloaded console. Felt impacts across my shoulders, heard her gasp against my armor plating, registered that she was unhurt even as warning sirens started screaming.
"Emergency shutdown!" Elena shouted, voice muffled against my chest. "Now!"
I hit the emergency cutoff. The sector grid went dark except for emergency lighting.
Silence. Then Elena's voice, small and shaken: "That wasn't supposed to happen."
I loosened my hold enough to look down at her. She was pressed against me, eyes wide, one hand fisted in my tactical vest. Trembling.
"Are you hurt?" I asked.
"No. You?"
"Nothing serious." My shoulders felt warm, probably minor burns through the vest. "What happened?"
"Secondary cascade. Should have been impossible with the rerouting I did, unless…" She pulled away, moved toward the ruined console despite my instinctive grab for her. "Unless someone deliberately sabotaged the failsafes."
The implication hit like tactical assessment. "Someone wanted this repair to fail?"
"Someone wanted me to fail." Elena stared at the destroyed equipment, her expression cycling through shock and realization. "Vaxon. This was deliberate. Someone's been tampering with the electrical systems."
And they'd nearly killed her doing it.
Chapter
Three
Elena
The mortification hit me in waves.
I'd actually said it out loud. To Vaxon. That stunning piece of emotional honesty,at least I'd have been useful, had spilled out of my mouth like I'd forgotten how to function as a rational human being. Which, apparently, I had. Because normal people didn't have complete emotional breakdowns in front of their former supervisors while standing in the wreckage of a power relay they'd just accidentally exploded.
